Weird Wednesdays: Climax

This screening was part of the Alamo Drafthouse’s Weird Wednesday series. For upcoming shows, click here.

The traditional horrors of the silver screen are innumerable. From the supernatural ghosts, ghouls, zombies, and demons, to the more cold-blooded reality of violent murderers and devious psychopaths, there are more than enough options to chill a viewer to the core. Despite all of these more traditional horrors, nothing affects me quite so much as the very real fear of simply losing my grasp on reality without any kind of warning, and at its core, this is what Gaspar Noe’s Climax is all about. Inspired by an incident that apparently happened back in the mid-‘90s, it follows a group of dancers as they all join together to rehearse a large and elaborate group dance, after which they all decompress, split off into groups, talk, flirt, argue, dance some more, and share in the punch bowl full of sangria. Soon the dancers shift from decompression to discomfort as they begin to piece together that someone has spiked the sangria with LSD, and quickly all hell begins to break loose.

While this is conceptually straightforward, nothing is that simple through the eyes of director Gaspar Noe. Known to some as a provocateur, and to others a misanthrope who only exists to upset audiences, Noe is a director who tends to work better for me than many other European art/shock directors. My time with Michael Haneke left me feeling insulted by a director who seems to think himself superior to me as a viewer. My time with Lars Von Trier left a bad taste in my mouth regarding what I perceived as rampant misogyny (my takeaway from Antichrist was that he felt women themselves were the titular Antichrist) and while Noe’s films are no more defensible than those other directors, for some reason they work for me in a way the others don’t. One could easily argue that they’re just as pretentious, disgusting, and hateful, but as is often the case with art, you can’t deny when you see something that moves you. I Stand Alone, Irreversible, and Love all left me beaten down emotionally and mentally, yet I keep coming back for more, with a few titles remaining that I still need to experience.

Climax, somehow, is considered to be Noe’s most accessible film. His first film to earn an R rating in America, he doesn’t resort to the visceral violence and unsimulated sexuality of his earlier films, but by his very nature he remains transgressive, following none of the common rules of cinema. The end credits to Climax appear when they damn well please, as do the opening credits and the title card. Despite this adventure in cinematic structure, the story itself is chronological enough, save for opening with a bloodied woman bursting through a door and collapsing into the snow outside, directly foreshadowing that this will not end well. We then cut to a TV surrounded by copies of cinema’s greatest feel-bad classics (including Suspiria, Angst, Possession, Salo, and more), a primer of sorts for the experience that lies ahead. On the TV, various people are interviewed about dancing and what it means to them, and then shortly after we see these people join together as the music starts pumping so that they can do what they do best: dance their asses off. An extended dance sequence does a marvelous job of featuring a crew filled with people of all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds, and general walks of life, characters we learn even come with colorful names like Goth Daddy, Psyche, Cyborg, Serpent, Emmanuelle, Gazelle, and David. Some dance with an elegant beauty, some krumping intensely, some popping and locking, others going for moves I can only describe as “Jim Carrey-esque.” Everyone gets a moment to show what they can do until the song ends and it’s time to chill.

After this, as mentioned, everyone takes time to split off, have separate conversations, and chill out. This section may be offputting for many as it becomes clear that save for Sofia Boutella as Selva, these actors are really dancers first and foremost, most in their first (and only) acting credit. This would be difficult enough for an ensemble of first-timers, but they spend the next act of the movie essentially improvising dialogue. Some of it is more plot-based, like learning about the mother who made the punch and brought her young son along to this dance recital despite it not necessarily being a place for kids.  Some of it just gives you a better idea of the characters we’re dealing with, especially as couples fight and men speak quite frankly and at length about their sexual desires for the women in the room, conversations that would be grating if scripted, but knowing that they’re improvised does nothing to help the image of the actors at hand.

Thankfully after a short while, the group decides to express themselves in the way that works best for them, as everyone starts taking turns solo dancing, rolling with the vibes as the sangria works its way through their bodies. After another impressive display of physical prowess, it’s time for the real reason Noe brought us here, as is often the case with him: abject human misery. From this point we enter what at least appears to be a single 40-plus minute long uninterrupted take, as Selva begins to recognize that she is losing her grip on reality, being something of an anchor character thanks to Sofia Boutella’s fearless performance, one that echoes Isabelle Adjani’s madness in the aforementioned Possession at moments. Everyone else starts coming to the same realization around the same time, resulting in what could be politely considered “really bad vibes.”

Paranoia and anger set in as the hallucinating dancers point fingers, trying to figure out who could have done this. Anyone who didn’t drink the sangria is immediately suspect and targeted by the mob, as is the drink’s mixer, the aforementioned single mother. To make matters worse, she catches her son trying to play it cool, casually drinking from the punch bowl, causing her to panic and lock him in a fairly dangerous electrical room to keep him away from the others. From here, things erupt into madness as Noe’s camera drifts from person to person throughout the abandoned boarding school, as anger intensifies into violence, possible connections turn directly sexual (including one pair going for it right on the dance floor), people bond, panic, and some people just keep dancing their asses off through the trip.

While Noe wisely chooses not to attempt to simulate what the dancers may be seeing directly, the living camera does the work of disorienting the viewer just fine, drifting through each room like a ghost, spinning around, turning upside down, and taking you to hell along with everyone else. While some find love, others companionship, and others passion, for much of this crew it ends in pain, violence, and death. The aftermath is as much of a shock as it is a relief, a sad state of affairs at least allowing a respite from the relentless onslaught of the last 40 minutes. At this point, does it even matter who spiked the punch, or why?

Chaos can overtake a magical night in mere moments. Some people don’t have the heart to see this fact represented on the big screen. Others may not have the stomach. And others still may write off Gaspar Noe as a juvenile misanthrope who simply likes to ruin a viewer’s day. Certainly, it would be so easy for me to take offense with him for daring to make an entire movie about my greatest fear, but instead I find myself in awe. It’s a bold, striking piece of filmmaking that hits me where I live. If a movie makes me feel, whether I love it or hate it, I can’t deny that it hit the mark, and for me, Climax is a mesmerizing, painful bullseye.

Climax’s genesis is a fascinating tale, going from conception to post-production in only six weeks. To gather a crew, a location, performers, and to let them tell the story in their own words in a film shot in chronological order, the final result could be a mess, and while this is the tale of a complete mess for those involved, it stands as a stunning artistic achievement. In particular, I’d like to single out Sofia Boutella, a dancer turned actor who has had a fascinating career, standing out in titles like Kingsman: The Secret Service and Atomic Blonde, and still coming out looking great even in poorly received titles like 2017’s The Mummy and Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon series. She has a propensity for making daring, interesting choices, and I hope she keeps juggling big swings like Climax with more crowd-pleasing Hollywood fare.

Special thanks to Weird Wednesday for featuring this on the big screen over six years after an underwhelming token theatrical run in the US that lasted maybe two weeks. While my initial home viewing of this was plenty effective, it was made for the theatrical experience, the dizzying camera unavoidable as it overtakes a whole wall in front of you, and the inescapable bass rattling your chair constantly like a rollercoaster straight through Hell. Hopefully you’re lucky enough to end up on the other side of the ride in one piece, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll just keep on dancing to the madness long after it’s over.

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